Sucker Punch
by x.SodeNoZangetsu.x
Summary: It was supposed to be easy. Graduate, move to a different city, box, and make a name for myself. It wasn't supposed to amount to this. I wasn't supposed to stumble upon the enigma that was Elsa Arendelle, perhaps the world's greatest boxer. I wasn't supposed to uncover her deep, dark secret. I wasn't supposed to fall in love. But I did. [Boxer!Anna. Trainer!Elsa. Elsanna.]
1. Prologue: Never Easy

**I was **_**not**_** expecting this to come out just a few hours after A Never Ending Note's update, but here it is anyway. Oh, well; that's a good thing right? Means I'm back in the game?**

**Anyway, quite a few people to thank here. First, thanks to Walking-After on DeviantArt for letting me use the picture that inspired this story as its cover art! You're an amazing artist!**

**Then there's icest-in-arendelle on Instagram for posting this picture in the first place and wanting a fan fic of it. Also, thanks for letting me brainstorm the plot with you and helping me come up with a title! I dedicate this story to you! (And queenelsa_roleplay, also on Instagram.)**

**So anyway, yadda, yadda, yadda, typical introduction stuff…**

**Two more things: ANEN will continue to be updated alongside Sucker Punch. Hopefully, both will have chapters out at the same time like today. I shall try my best. Also, this story will be from Anna's POV. I may switch to Elsa depending on the demand for her, but I think her whole "secret" thing will be more interesting from Anna's side.**

**Okay, that's over; thanks for reading this if you did. **

**And please review! :)**

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.:Sucker Punch:.

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**Prologue: Never Easy**

It was supposed to be easy. Graduate, move to a different city, box, and make a name for myself. It wasn't supposed to amount to this. I wasn't supposed to stumble upon the intriguing enigma that was Elsa Arendelle, perhaps _the_ world's best female boxer. I wasn't supposed to latch onto her like some pathetic, lost puppy. My interest wasn't supposed to evolve to lust, and why the _fuck_ did I have to fall in love with her? Lusting over _the_ boxing goddess wasn't enough? I had to go _fall in love_?

Typical me, honestly. Brilliant, Anna, truly brilliant. Ten points to Gryffindor.

Sorry; _Harry Potter_ reference.

Where was I? Oh, yeah.

The whole love thing wasn't enough either, apparently, as I also had to go and uncover her deep, dark secret that had the entire boxing scene's—media, fans, and fellow boxers alike—panties in a twist.

It wasn't even like she made all of this easy for me. I had to fight like _hell_ to just get the first hello out of her. After that, it wasn't all rainbows and sunshine either. In fact, it was more like trudging through the fiery pits of Hell with Satan himself riding on your shoulders and ridiculing you for every little misstep.

Yes, it was really that bad.

Yes, I suppose I _do_ have an interesting way of explaining things; just go ask Elsa.

When and why did my life get so complicated? I was just your average eighteen year-old, fresh out of high school; it wasn't like I went _asking_ for all of this.

Okay, so maybe I did. I already told you she fascinated me from the first night I laid eyes on her, and once I'm hooked on something, boy is it hard for me to…well, let's just say "un-hook."

Okay, so maybe I did drag Elsa kicking and screaming through all of this, but I have to say now I think it turned out for the best. She may not think so and god knows she'd keep her vocalization of it suppressed and take it with her to the grave, but I'm in charge here and I say it did turn out well.

So this is me in a weird-sort-of-nutshell. Anna Summers, up-and-coming boxing star at your service; Kentucky native and now New York resident. And yes, Kentucky does have boxing; we did give you Muhammad Ali, after all. _Sheesh_.

Anyway, I suppose you can thank Mr Ali for getting me into boxing in the first place. My dad wasn't a boxer, but he sure did have a lot of Muhammad Ali's fights taped. My best-friend-basically-older-brother Kristoff and I stumbled across them one day when we were kids and I was hooked instantly. I had always been a rambunctious little kid, so when I saw _people punching other people _as a sport, needless to say, I was enthralled. And I told you earlier with Elsa about how I get once I'm hooked on something.

So later that day, Kristoff and I were out in my yard playing, when I started trying to be Mr Ali himself and show off some of my killer moves. Kristoff, being the best guy there is, bravely let me try out my skills on him. It was silly and fun for a bit as the guy's a bear of a man with a build that could keep him unharmed from anything, but when I landed a punch to his chest that had him doubled over in pain, we called it quits.

I was worried about him the rest of the day—I mean, I had just hurt my best friend! My illegitimate older brother! But when we both discovered the bruise the next day, I couldn't help but feel immensely proud of myself. I had been only seven at the time; Kristoff was eleven. My tiny, child, girl fists had punched the older boy hard enough to leave a mark and this was a kid who played soccer all through middle school and was used to taking hits—he would later go on to play ice hockey, but that's unimportant right now.

I had boxing in my blood, I determined that day, and it was only thanks to Mr Muhammad Ali that I figured that out—okay, so it was thanks to my dad, too, since he had the tapes in the first place.

So now you know how I got into boxing; now all that's left to do is explain how Elsa got all mixed up in this, and that's easier said than done. It's quite the story.

But it's her story as well. It's the story of how I helped bring the ex-star back into the light and how I helped her overcome her fear and hate of her secret. It's the story about how she learned to let others in again. It's the story about how she learned to love again.

This story is about both of us, which makes it our story; and that fact alone is enough for me to cherish this story like I would my own child.

But anyway, enough with my rambling, I should just get on with it; it's what you all came here for, right?

Well, fasten your seatbelts, because here we go…


	2. Chapter 1: A Fresh Start

**So, after a week and a day, the story finally begins! Prepare yourselves!**

**I also promise the chapters will get longer. Starting out is always kind of rough.**

**And, wow, over 70 follows for the **_**prologue**_**?! You guys rock. Keep up the awesomeness. **

**I don't own Frozen.**

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**Chapter 1: Fresh Start**

"There!" I exclaim with a huff, as the last box of my belongings is set on the floor. "That should be the last one."

"You sure?" Kristoff asks. "I feel like we've been doing this for hours."

I roll my eyes at him. Typical Kristoff, really; always complaining about something.

"That's 'cause we _have_ been doing this for hours," I tell him.

"And whose fault is that?" he questions sarcastically.

A pause.

"Uh, _ow!_"

He totally deserved that hit to his shin. Grinning triumphantly, I address him, "You didn't _have _to help me move in, you know."

He just sends me his trademark cocky grin and retorts, "Well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't offer to help my girl move in?"

"Then stop complaining!"

"You know you love it," he gushes, making a point to muss my hair.

"Only 'cause I love you," I reply while laughing and trying to free myself from his big bear-hands. "Would you quit it?!"

"You know you love it," Kristoff repeats.

"Well, my hair doesn't, so stop it," I retorted. "Do you really want to overstay your welcome on your _first _visit? I haven't even been in New York for a full 24 hours and you're already annoying me."

Kristoff crosses his arms and smiles smugly at me.

"That's what you get when you have me as a best friend," he explains simply.

Kristoff Bjorgman, ladies and gentlemen.

Honestly I surprise myself sometimes with how much crap of his I put up with. Like how he always smells like his dog—a Rottweiler who is an even _bigger_ oaf than Kristoff—or how he proudly flaunts the fact that he _picks his nose and eats it_. I mean, really? What are you, Kristoff, five?

Granted, I've never seen him actually do it, thank god, but it seems like such a random thing to joke about _all the time_ that I've really just come to accept it. As long as he doesn't do it around me? Eh, live and let live, I say.

Okay, so wow… That just got _way_ off topic. I already mentioned the fact that I ramble, right? Exhibit A; take note.

Anyway, I had just moved to New York that day. Like literally, my plane had landed first thing in the morning, Kristoff had met me at the airport, we met the moving truck here at my new apartment, and here we are now. A fresh start for a girl fresh out of high school. I was excited to move to the Big Apple; excited to start the next chapter of my life in a completely different environment. Growing up in Louisville, Kentucky, you get a hint at city life, but I'm sure Downtown Louisville is _nothing_ compared to Manhattan.

I would later come to learn that I couldn't have been more right in my assumption. But we'll get to that shortly.

"So," Kristoff starts with a huff, plopping down on my newly purchased couch. "Want me to stay and help unpack?"

Opening a box at random, I turn to him. "Are you really offering, or are you just saying that to be nice?"

"Bit of both; mostly the latter," he replies.

I roll my eyes again. "Figures."

"I mean, you do have _a lot_ to unpack; it will probably take you the rest of the afternoon."

"I don't plan to do this all at once, silly," I tell him. "I do want to spend some time exploring the city before it gets too dark."

"Then just unpack the essentials and let's get out of here," Kristoff all but orders me. "I'm bored."

I huff and throw the freshly unpacked TV remote at his head.

"Then do me a favor and hook up the cable so you can watch TV," I offer.

"Yes, Your Highness."

This time, it is my PS4 controller that finds purchase atop his thick skull.

"_Hey!_" he shouts.

"Hook that up while you're at it," I say without looking at him.

"Whatever you say, Your Grace."

"Kristoff, shut up."

XxXxX

So after another hour of unpacking and banter with Kristoff—seriously, that's quality friendship right there, guys—we set out so Kristoff could at least start the grand tour of the city. It would obviously take a few days—and, knowing me, probably weeks—for me to know my way around, but hey, like I said, it was a start.

We gave my new subway pass a test run and wound up at a burger joint in Brooklyn. Kristoff had told me that, if anything, come to Brooklyn for this place. Apparently they had the best burgers in the whole city.

He wasn't lying.

"Holy shit, Kristoff, this thing is amazing!" I cry out after taking just my first bite. "I mean, I can literally _feel_ my arteries clogging!"

The blond chuckles and says, "I know, right? Isn't it amazing?"

I nod and agree. "_So_ amazing."

I take another bite of my double cheeseburger with bacon topped with onion, tomato, lettuce and ketchup as Kristoff takes a sip of his drink.

"So, you planning on entering the annual boxing tournament the city throws?" he asks me next.

"Of course!" I boast, puffing my chest out in pride. "It is why I moved here, after all. Although I don't know how good I'll be after I demolish a couple of these bad boys." I wave my burger around for emphasis.

"That's true," he concedes. "Physique is important in your field."

"Yours too," I tell him, referring to his playing ice hockey. "I mean, yeah, you guys are allowed to be big—in fact, it's encouraged—but there's a difference between big and fit, and big and…well, _big_." I reach across the table and poke at his belly fat.

"Hey!" he exclaims with a chuckle. "That's just my food baby!"

"_Food baby_?" I chide. "Really, Kristoff?"

He just scoffs and takes another bite of his own monstrosity of calories and grease.

"Whatever, I'll just work it all off tomorrow," he mumbles, his mouth full.

"Speaking of which," I speak up. "What's the best gym to go to closest to my place? Preferably one I can run to and from."

Kristoff shrugs. "There's several. One's actually right at the end of your block. The one I go to is all the way on the other end of Central Park from where you live, though."

I match his shrug with my own. "Can I run there and back?"

"You can, and knowing you, you will."

"Then I choose that one," I state with confidence.

"You do know that Central Park is, like, huge, right?"

"All the more reason for me to include it in my training!"

The big lug just shrugs once more. "Whatever you say, girl."

XxXxX

The next day, I wake up early to find my way to the gym Kristoff and I had been talking about yesterday and register. I didn't plan to run today, as I honestly had no idea where I was going. I was simply going to explore the park, take note of what would be the quickest route across from my place to the gym, and come back home. After registering at the gym, too, of course.

There was an entrance to Central Park right across the street from my apartment building. It was amazing really. I lived up on the seventh floor which gave me a great view of the entire park. You could see across its entire expanse and from seven stories up, the park didn't honestly look that big. I knew on the ground, however, that would probably be a different story entirely.

I was right.

_I swear I've passed this tree, like, three times,_ I grumble internally to myself as I walk down one of the park's many paths.

I was beginning to regret not having Kristoff tag along. Surely by now he knew the park like the back of his hand. He had been living here for two years now; it would be kind of weird if he didn't.

Eventually, like two hours later, I find my way out of the park, and I am pleasantly surprised when I realize I came out only a few blocks away from where I intended. Beginner's luck, huh?

Tracking down the gym goes by without a hitch, and in no time I'm standing before a large two-story building. I grin. Call me weird, but gyms always got me excited. I loved them. I loved going and working out; I loved all the different machinery and ways to stay fit; I loved the pain you felt the morning after; I loved everything about it.

I pull open the double doors and couldn't help but grin as the familiar scent of rubber, Clorox, sweat and…chlorine?—they had a pool, cool!—fill my nose. Gross, right? Nope, I loved it.

I almost skip up to the front desk where this hulk of a man was sitting, perusing the _New York Times_.

"Hi!" I chirp as I come to a halt.

He looks up casually, but upon seeing me standing there and not just shouting at him in passing, he smiles and puts the paper down.

"Hey there," he greets.

"I'd like to get a membership, please," I say. "I just moved here yesterday and my friend recommended this gym to me."

The man's smile widens imperceptibly. "Well then; tell your friend thanks, okay?"

I nod. "I will!"

He spins around in his chair and gathers a few pieces of paper before turning back around. Putting all the papers on a clipboard, he hands me it along with a pen.

"Fill all this out, please," he says.

I nod and scoot down the desk a bit in case someone else comes in. The forms were your typical kind of documents: your name, address, what kind of membership you wanted, etcetera. The other two sheets listed all that the gym offered like classes and equipment while the second had a map.

Handing the first form back to the man, I watch as he glances over it.

"Anna Summers, huh?" I nod again. "Well, Anna, I'm Ralph. Nice to have you aboard. Welcome to the gym!"

"Thanks!" I beam. "I'm so excited; I love gyms. That's not weird is it?"

Ralph laughs and it's so boisterous it resounds throughout the entire floor, I'm sure.

"To some it may be," he replies. "But not to me, and I'm sure the rest of our members would agree with me. Why would you join a gym if you didn't love working out?"

"Ha, right. Silly question."

He shakes his head, the smile still on his face. "It wasn't, really. A silly question would be if you walked in here and asked if we had treadmills."

This time I laugh. "That _would_ be silly!"

He chuckles before turning back around.

"Let me get you your membership card for you," he says. "We'll put your first bill in the mail next month."

I nod, despite the fact he can't see it.

While Ralph is busy making my card, I take the time to look around. The lobby area was pretty big. Immediately after walking in, Ralph's desk was to the right and to the left was a display of items for sale like water bottles, towels, even clothes with the gym's name and logo on it. The further in you went, eventually you came across gates like they have down in the subway. Upon swiping your card, you were permitted access to the rest of the gym. I walk over to the gates to inspect how it worked so I wouldn't look like a fool the first time I tried to get in. It looked simple enough.

Backing back out into the lobby, I look up. There was a large window that spanned the entire building from the second floor that looked down into the lobby. I watch as several people run on treadmills, there was even one guy on a bike. I grin; and that was just what I could see from here. I was getting more excited by the minute.

"Anna?"

I spin around as Ralph calls me. I basically skip back to the desk.

"Yes?"

He smiles at me again. "Got your card ready." Brandishing the card, he hands it to me.

"Great, thanks!" I nearly squeal.

"Can't wait to see you," Ralph then states.

"Yeah, I'll most likely be back tomorrow!"

"See you then."

I thank him again and start to head out. Thinking of something last minute, I spin back around.

"How late are you all open?" I call.

"Technically we're open twenty-four-seven," Ralph hollers back. "There may not be anyone at the desk, but you'll always be able to get in with your card."

I beam. "Great."

Waving and thanking him once again, this time I actually walk back out to the street.

As I head back towards Central Park to head home, I glance at the gym over my shoulder and smile once more.

My training started tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 2: Goddess of Fight

**Oh look, another short chapter. **

**Ugh, sorry. The good news is that if they stay short, I can probably continue to manage to update once a week. So, a poll: shorter chapters and quicker updates, or longer chapters and slower updates? Keep in mind I'm also working on ANEN at the same time. Cumbersome, I know.**

**Review, favorite, follow, enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Goddess of Fight**

It wasn't until a month later that I saw Elsa for the first time.

I had come to the gym late one night, due to the fact that I had picked up a job in the last week which had me working most afternoons until late at night. I didn't mind the late hours, and I was actually excited to go to the gym so late. It got pretty busy during the day and I was anxious to see if it would be dead this late at night. Since it was dark out, however, I decided to take the subway, figuring that was probably safer than running through the park at night. I would need to ask Kristoff about that later.

Anyway, I get to the gym and walk in and wasn't the least bit surprised when I see no one at the front desk. Neither Ralph nor his young assistant I had met the other day, Vanellope, were present. I shrug; Ralph had said not to fret if no one was there. I glance at my phone for the time. It was nearly midnight; no wonder no one was at the front desk.

Swiping my card, I head towards the locker rooms on the first floor to change and store my stuff. I still hadn't run into anyone yet and I shamefully had to admit that it was beginning to creep me out.

I mean, I was seemingly alone in this _huge_ building; don't tell me I wasn't allowed to be freaking out a bit. People really didn't work out this late? Surely I couldn't be the only one with a work schedule that only allowed for really early morning workouts or late night ones.

Trying to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling, I continue to go about my business. Confining my stuff to my self-designated locker, I head up to the second level to start out with a two mile run on the treadmills since I hadn't be able to run over.

I went about my usual routine—weights, rowing, a fifteen minute stretch and water break, and another mile run—before I decide to check out the room designated for boxing for the first time.

Yeah, I know, as big of a boxing nut as I am and I still hadn't checked out the room dedicated to boxing workouts? What kind of boxer am I, right?

Honestly, I was afraid.

Boxing isn't your typical sport like basketball, soccer, or football; it's rare to find a college or university with a boxing program let alone a _high school_ with one. I really had only been competitively boxing my last two years of high school; it wasn't until then that I managed to scrounge up enough interested students and convince one of my teachers to sponsor us that we got a team.

We weren't much; barely five people strong, but I still loved it nonetheless. I hate to say this in fear of sounding narcissistic, but I was definitely the best on the team. "Coach"—who was basically my AP Calculus teacher junior year—even told me so, so I'm allowed to gloat, right? As an entire team, we never managed to bring home many prizes, but as an individual, I managed to win nearly all my matches. I was good at boxing and now I was beginning to discover it. All that beating up on Kristoff growing up had really paid off.

Anyway, that's what made me move to New York City in the first place: the boxing scene. Two tournaments take place every year in the Fall; one for rookies and one for experienced boxers. Obviously when I sign up, I'll be signing up for the rookie tournament. I may think I'm good at boxing, but even my ego can restrain itself to realize I'm not near good enough to compete with _real_,_ legitimate_ boxers. After all, I'm just an eighteen year-old kid; I can't stand up to twenty-plus year-old men! I'd get slaughtered! I may have a good physique and a strong build, but even that can't and won't save me from the iron fists of giants!

Okay, maybe that's my mind just getting over-excited. I did say I have a brilliant imagination, right?

Thankfully, I was saved from even stranger thoughts developing by noises coming from a room down the hall. As I continue my approach, I realize they are coming from the boxing room. I feel my stomach flip. Someone else was here? And in the boxing room, no less? Great; now I was probably going to end up looking like an idiot somehow.

I came so close to turning around and saving my discovery of that room for another night, but the grunts and grumbles that continued to escape the room had my interest piqued.

"Damn it!" I hear—along with other expletives—come from the room, followed swiftly by the sound of a bag being punched. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!"

So, not only was someone at the gym this late, in my boxing room, and cursing, but they also seemed to be very self-deprecating.

"Fuck it," I grumble, deciding to continue my approach.

Curiosity killed the cat; and in this case, the cat had red hair and teal eyes.

Right outside the door now, I carefully peer around the frame and into the room. Forgetting I was attempting to discreetly spy on someone, my eyes immediately light up at the sight of all the equipment and have to hold in an excited gasp.

This room was awesome! Everything I had dreamed of using back in high school was at my disposal! There was even a mock ring in the middle of the room!

Another grunt and 'fuck!' remind me I'm not alone.

My eyes travel across the room until they settle on the lone figure in a corner, beating the literal stuffing out of a punching bag.

_Hot damn!_ is all I could coherently get my mind to think.

This "lone figure" was a girl; and a _hot_ girl at that.

Oh yeah, might have forgotten to mention I'm hella gay; although that should have been easily assumed from my introduction. Why would I lust over and eventually fall in love with a girl if I was straight?

Okay, off target yet again. Back to the hot girl.

Okay, so yeah, I was only staring at her back for the moment, but I'd be damned if it wasn't the sexiest back I'd ever seen.

Is that weird?

From what I could immediately observe, she was built a lot like me. Long, slim—_delicious_—legs, her skin pulled so taut against her back that I could literally see her spine moving in accordance to her exertion from across the room, even through her clothing. Her hair was a very light blonde and was pulled back into a braid, which was quickly becoming mussed from her frustration. She was wearing yoga shorts and a slim-fitting tank which easily allowed me to drool over her milky shoulders. I could only imagine what she looked like from the front.

I had to find out.

Before I revealed myself, I pull back out of the room in order to catch my breath and plan some sort of speech so I don't go in there blabbing like an idiot. Even though I probably would end up doing so anyway, I had to at least _act_ like I wasn't a mesmerized, gay, fool.

So, maybe the lust developed before the interest, but, come on, if anyone else had been there, I _know_ they would have been in the same boat as me.

This girl was flawless. She was a goddess. Forget the fact that I had only seen her backside thus far, she was beautiful nonetheless.

I peer back in as I hear her deliver another blow to the bag. I watch as her hands clench into tight fists, black fingerless gloves covering what I was sure were perfect hands. I cock an eyebrow in curiosity at the long, black arm brace covering her right arm from her wrist to her shoulder.

Swallowing a lump in my throat and praying my eyes don't look as star-struck as I thought they did, I make myself known.

"I was sure I was the only one who worked out this late," I say as I enter.

I watch in amusement as she spins around, braid flying over her shoulder, eyes wide as saucers.

My amusement quickly dies when I notice the look of fear and self-loathing shimmering in her beautiful blue irises.

"Stressful day?" I inquire, hoping to hear her voice.

Her mouth forms a tight line as she frowns, immediately looking away from me and to the floor.

"You could say that," she grumbles.

My god, I was smitten. Even though she was practically growling while silently seething, she had the most sublime voice. It was lofty, yet smooth.

I had been correct when I said she was a goddess.

"I'm sure the bag's hoping tomorrow turns out better," I say in my most chipper voice, wanting to cheer this goddess up before me.

I'm still not to this day exactly sure, but I could have sworn I saw the ends of her lips twitch up in the briefest of smirks at my quip. Regardless of whether it was there or not, my chest swelled with pride. I had gotten this ethereal beauty to smile.

Sort of. Maybe.

I take a few hesitant steps closer, approaching her like you would a cornered puppy; slow and careful, but with what you hope is the warmest look you can muster.

"Working out is the best way to relieve stress," I try again.

"Unless it's the cause," is her curt reply.

Okay, so she wasn't a woman of many words. I can work with that. For her, I would work with anything.

"Why?" I can't help but ask.

She shoots me a glare that freezes me in my advance. Damn; if looks could kill…

"I don't even know who the hell you are; what makes you think I have anything to say to you?"

I frown. "I'm just trying to help."

She continues to glower as she replies, "Well stop trying. I don't need any help."

Then, without sparing me another glance, she strides from the room with an air of elegance and regality surrounding her.

I stand there for a good five minutes just running through the conversation—if you could even call it that—in my head.

Who _was_ that girl? Why did she seem so familiar?

It wasn't until I awake with a start at six in the morning that I remembered.

Elsa Arendelle.

_Holy shit, that was actually her!_ I exclaimed in my mind. The_ Elsa!_

For anyone who doesn't know, Elsa Arendelle is, like, the boxing prodigy of today. Most—including me—consider her the best female boxer this side of the globe—hell, maybe even the _world_! She had been my age when she made the Olympic team and her first year there she brought home a silver medal. Like, that's a big fucking deal! Then, four years later, now just twenty-two, she made the team _again_ and brought home the fucking gold! Like, are you _shitting _me?

Ugh, sorry; I have a tendency to curse a lot when I get riled up.

Anyway, so, she wins the silver and gold and everyone's expecting her to announce whether she will be competing in the next Olympics when suddenly…

She goes off the grid.

Literally, no one had seen hide nor hair of her since two months following the last Olympic Games. Now it's almost been a year and she still hadn't resurfaced.

Until tonight.

I _saw_ Elsa Arendelle. She lives in the same city as me. _She goes to the same gym as me_.

I _have _to see her again.


	4. Chapter 3: Blow by Blow

**Well, since nobody voiced their opinion on updates, you all will continue to receive whatever I dish out. **

**So, I pose another poll: Anyone have any ideas what Elsa's "secret" is? I won't tell you if you're right or wrong, but it could still be fun. I love interacting with my readers, so please, humor me.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 3: Blow by Blow**

It was the next night when I ran into her again. I was walking into the locker room of the gym around eleven-thirty at night, and there she was in all her glory, finishing up a workout of her own.

"Hey again," I greet as I walk swiftly to my locker, remembering her foul mood last night and wary of how I would be received this time.

She looks to me from her spot on the bench, towel around her neck, and smiles at me.

Actually _smiles_.

I think I died and went to heaven.

"Hi," she answers in a soft voice; it was like she did a complete one-eighty from last night.

Maybe she has a twin? Maybe I met her evil spawn last night?

Regardless, I smile back.

"Better day?" I inquire.

This causes her to look away and I want to smack myself for saying the wrong thing. Looking at the floor now, I can see her trying to keep a tough front on, but deep down, I knew she was struggling with something. She was closing in on herself.

"Maybe a little bit," she whispers.

I was afraid to ask why, since when I asked last night, she immediately shut me down.

Instead, I hesitantly sit down next to her and duck my head down, trying to get a glimpse of that beautiful face of hers.

Our eyes meet and I beam. She smiles back, almost shyly.

Seriously, this was _not_ the same girl from last night.

"Things will get better, you know?" I tell her, being the optimist I always am.

She frowns again and I internally berate myself once more for always saying the wrong things.

"I appreciate your optimism, but I seriously doubt it," she mumbles back.

I smile awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Do I ask why she thinks that and risk being given the cold shoulder again? Do I brush it off and pretend to be uninterested?

Without really giving it much thought, I choose the latter.

"I'm Anna," I say, holding a hand out before me and smiling.

She glances to my hand briefly before biting her lip and looking away.

She doesn't shake back.

"Elsa," she mirrors.

I drop my hand, secretly disappointed she refused my attempt to reach out.

"You like to box?" I ask next, deciding to pretend I'm unaware of who she is was the best option for now.

I get another smile out of her at that, but her eyes are still troubled.

"I love it," she replies, speaking in a soft tone again. "I've only been doing it for a few years, but it's just the best."

"I love it too," I say. "I've only been competitively boxing for two years, but I'm hoping to make it big here soon."

"New York is one of the best places to get your start, I suppose," she tells me, looking back up to me finally. I grin when her eyes meet mine.

I swear I see her blush.

Then, like always, she looks away again and pushes her bangs out of her face.

"Listen," she begins with a sigh. "I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you last night. That was rude of me; I'm usually not like that, really. You just…caught me at a bad time."

I smile, trying to let her know I didn't hold anything against her. "It did look like you had a personal vendetta against that bag or something."

My heart swells when I heard her laugh, and I swear it sounded like the chimes of the most precious bells.

"In a way, I suppose I do," she responds.

I raise an eyebrow in question. She smirks briefly before it falters again.

"It's nothing," she sighs. "Really, don't worry about it. I did want to apologize, though."

I wave her comment away. "Totally forgotten all about it," I reassure her, even though that was the least bit true. I was still trying to decide if this girl before me was really the Elsa I ran into last night. I'm beginning to think I may never figure it out.

She smiles briefly again before looking to the clock on the wall behind me.

"I should go," she says. "Leave you to your workout."

"We should work out together sometime!" I chirp before I could reel the thought back in.

She blinks, momentarily surprised, but then I see that same look of fear I saw last night cloud her eyes.

Why was she scared? She seemed to be having no problem interacting with me tonight.

"M-Maybe," she stumbles out, before she quickly gathers her belongings and flees the room.

Once she was out of sight, I _did_ end up smacking myself in the forehead.

Four times.

"Way to go, Anna," I grumble to myself. "That was going pretty well until you basically tried to set up a date with her."

I suppose this shows I've always lacked the ability to be suave. Probably why I've never had a girlfriend before; I scare them away with my awkwardness before I can lay on my "Anna charm."

Hell, who am I kidding; I don't have any charm. Might as well resign myself to the fact that I'll most likely be forever alone. I manage to take comfort in the fact that Kristoff will most likely join me in living a lonely life. There's no way that guy is going to get a girlfriend if I can't. He's worse than me.

And I'm not just saying that.

XxXxX

"So wait," Kristoff begins, pausing the movie we were currently watching on Netflix. "You're saying you actually _saw_ Elsa Arendelle two nights in a row _and_ spoke to her?"

"Yeah," I nod. "It was so weird, Kristoff. I mean, the first night she's basically a bitch to me, and then last night it was like she was some nervous, cornered school girl or something!"

Kristoff chuckles. "Well, maybe she disappeared because she has multiple personality disorder or something."

I frown. "That's not funny," I tell him seriously.

"Did you ask her what happened to make her quit boxing?" he asks next, totally brushing off my previous comment.

"No," I reply, somewhat offended. "You expected me to go up to her and say, 'Hey, you're Elsa Arendelle! Why have you suddenly dropped off the face of the Earth? You know, 'cause everyone totally has a right to know, so might as well start with me!'?"

Kristoff chuckles again. "Well, maybe not quite that elegantly," he jokes.

I huff. "You funny, funny man," I grumble. "Actually, I kinda pretended to not even know who she was."

"And _why_ would you do that?"

"I didn't want to scare her off, or risk having my head bitten off again!" I retort. "Were you not listening to _anything_ I just said?" I groan. "Either she would have transformed into Ms Bitch again and probably yelled at me to mind my own damn business, or she would have clammed up and cowered in a corner because I knew who she really was!"

"I think you're blowing this way out of proportion," Kristoff deadpans.

"Well, you weren't there, sir, so you have no right to judge me."

Kristoff raises his hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough," he says. "So, do you plan to actually tell her you know who she is? Or just continue to be some crazy stalker?"

"Acting like I don't know who she is doesn't make me a stalker!" I cry. "If anything, telling her I _do_ know who she is, is even more stalker-ish!"

Kristoff rolls his eyes at me. "Calm down, feisty-pants, it was just a suggestion."

When I simply glare at him in retaliation, he rolls his eyes yet again.

"You think you'll ever see her again?"

"I hope so," I mumble. "She was hot."

Kristoff smacks me upside the head.

"Um, _ow_!" I yell. "You bastard, that _hurt_!"

XxXxX

I didn't run into Elsa again for another week.

For a second, I thought maybe she had dropped off the face of the Earth _again_. I mean, with the way she was acting the last time we ran into each other, it wouldn't be that surprising, really.

Maybe me showing up at the gym two nights in a row and confronting her really did startle her. Maybe that was the reason she went to the gym so late; in hopes no one else would be there.

Maybe she was hiding something?

She didn't just "disappear" or anything after the last Olympics for no reason; something must have happened that caused her to become this way. She's hiding from something, and, in essence, hiding from everyone.

But why?

I _had_ to know.

Because of my newfound interest in this girl, I continued going to the gym late at night in hopes to see her again. For a while, I had no luck—maybe I really _had_ scared her off—but then one night, I brought Kristoff with me and she was there again.

"This place is creepy this late," Kristoff mutters, actually throwing in a visible shudder to add to the effect.

"Oh, calm down you big baby," I grumble, sliding my card through the reader. "This isn't one of our video games where a deformed creature is going to jump out and startle us. The only thing here is _maybe_ Elsa, and she's far from deformed, trust me."

"I take it we're heading to the boxing room in hopes she'll be there again?" Kristoff asks, as he slides his own card through.

I had taken to going straight to the boxing room after changing to see if Elsa was there again. If she wasn't, I just shrugged it off and went to start my workout—even though now I'll admit I was always slightly disheartened that she wasn't there—and if she was…?

Well, obviously she never _was_ there, so I hadn't gotten that far yet.

But when I did?

I actually hadn't thought that far ahead.

Typical Anna. Go me.

"Doesn't look like she's here," Kristoff announces.

I come back to reality and realize that we had already arrived at the boxing room.

Sure enough, it was devoid of the blonde beauty.

I sigh.

"Maybe I really _did _scare her off," I whisper, finally voicing my thoughts.

Kristoff grunts in response, before I become acutely aware of a presence behind us.

"Scared who off?"

Jumping, I immediately spin around.

I couldn't help the grin that flooded my face.

"Elsa!"

Said blonde just smiles cheekily.

"You were expecting someone else here this late?" she inquires.

This time, _I_ blushed. I wasn't sure, but were we flirting? Well, I had yet to say anything but the unpleasant squawk of her name, but was _she_ flirting with _me_?

Elsa Arendelle had done a complete one-eighty yet again. At least her bitch persona had yet to make itself known.

Still grinning like a love-struck fool—what? I'm just being honest—I suddenly remember it wasn't just us tonight.

"Oh! This is my friend, Kristoff," I explain, gesturing to the bulk of a man next to me. "He usually comes during the day, but I convinced him to come with me tonight."

Elsa instantly reverts back into her shell as I introduce Kristoff. I see her eyes dart nervously over to him—and is that a hint of _sadness_ in her eyes?—before she grabs her right arm, her left curling around her middle almost protectively. I notice she was yet again wearing that black brace on her right arm.

"Hi," she says so softly I almost miss it.

Then she turns on her heel and flees down the hall.

I blink and look to Kristoff. He had the same puzzled expression I'm sure I was donning.

Shit, what had I done _now_?


	5. Chapter 4: Pulling Punches

**Chapter Four: Pulling Punches**

After witnessing Elsa run from me for a third time, I gave up trying to approach her. That wasn't to say my interest in her had dissipated—hell, if anything, it had increased ten-fold—but I had been trying to steer clear of the blonde. Obviously I was missing a big piece of the puzzle that was Elsa Arendelle, and every time I thought I had come close to finding a piece, it was torn away from me.

I had always hated puzzles.

Kristoff would say that I did continue to subtly stalk her, but I say I just continued to "check up" on her. I no longer engaged her if I saw her at the gym, but rather _I_ was the one to take off before she could get a word in edgewise. Okay, so yeah, I may have been giving her a taste of her own bitter medicine, but obviously everything else wasn't working.

This isn't to say holding back was easy. Anyone who knows me knows I'm one hell of a stubborn gal; this was most certainly still the case with regards to Elsa. Some days, trying to be…well…_un_-stubborn—I refuse to use the word "submissive"—was literally physically painful. I was a boxer; I wasn't one to roll over and give up a fight, and boy was Elsa sure putting up one fight.

I _would_ get her to talk.

I _would _befriend her.

"How" was still the million-dollar question.

XxXxX

"So you really haven't said anything to her since?" Kristoff asks me one day over another pair of burgers in our favorite spot in Brooklyn. "You've seen her though, right?"

"Yeah," I reply, waving a fry around as I speak. "I see her all the time now, but either she doesn't see me 'cause I slip out before she does, or she does see me, but doesn't say anything."

I pause and Kristoff just continues to stare me down.

Rolling my eyes, I add, "Fine; there was this one time she approached me in the locker room, but I just left before she could say anything."

"Why the _fuck_ did you do that?!" Kristoff scolds so loud, everyone in the restaurant turns to look at us.

An older lady glares at him before glancing to her two children next to her and Kristoff blushes.

"But, really, Anna," he continues, his voice significantly quieter, "you blew her off! Isn't that the first time _she's_ ever approached _you_?"

I shrug. "Now she knows how I've felt all those times she's basically done the same thing to me."

Kristoff rolls his eyes. "That's childish, Anna," he scoffs. "You're acting like this is a match and you're trying to match your opponent blow for blow or something. I know you adore boxing, but not everything is punch and duck."

"Since when did you become a philosopher?"

Okay, so maybe this whole thing with Elsa had made me kind of bitter. I had been a lot more "snippy" lately when I never was before, but, I mean, wouldn't anyone be kind of miffed that every time they tried to talk to someone they were talking to a whole different personality? And then being blown off?

Okay, so maybe that time I asked her to work out with me she was scared more than anything, but she could have at least shouted a "no, thank you" over her shoulder or something as she departed.

And in case we're still unclear about the whole "multiple personality" thing?

Case 1; also known as the miss-bitch incident.

Case 2; also known as the shy-school-girl incident.

Case 3; also known as the almost-flirting-before-running incident.

We clear? Good.

So, for all I knew, the _fourth_ time we "talked" could be an entirely new case; regardless of if she actually spoke to me first. I can't be blamed for being anxious, and therefore "bitchy"—as Kristoff would put it—of my own accord to speak to her again.

_Anyway_—gods, I keep getting sidetracked—Kristoff kept trying to convince me to give Elsa another chance. Of course, it was a given that she would get one, what with the intense mysterious aura emanating from the girl herself.

What can I say? She had me drawn to her; and mysteries plus a stubborn personality does not equal giving up.

Does that make sense?

"Well, you already know my stance on this," Kristoff says with a shrug of his shoulders.

I stare him down. "Yeah, but I'll either come out of this looking like a stalker, or a bitch," I grumble while basically drowning my fry in ketchup.

"At least you can't come out a _stalking bitch_!" Kristoff jokes. "You only get to be one."

I roll my eyes. "Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better."

XxXxX

Another week passed. I continued going to the gym on my normal, late schedule. I hadn't run into Elsa at all which I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Good because I hadn't had to run away from her again, but bad because it could mean any number of things.

As I walked into the boxing room and headed to the far corner where the large sandbag I practiced on all the time hung, I began going over what I knew about Elsa.

Start with the most obvious: she's _the _Elsa. She obviously has some kind of "secret" that has kept her out of the spotlight. She always comes to the gym late at night, like me.

Okay, I think as I dish out several punch combos on the bag, maybe I could combine those two facts. Elsa comes to the gym so late _because_ of this "secret." Maybe, whatever it is, she's afraid someone will find out, so she only works out when the chances the gym will be empty are highest?

It would explain her night-owl tendencies.

What else?

I duck an imaginary blow from the bag before sidestepping and landing a hard jab.

She has a hard time engaging people because of whatever she's hiding? She wants to be able to go about her life, but she also has to keep whatever it is hidden, so she's constantly going back and forth between moods?

That might explain the whole "multiple personality disorder."

Maybe the first night I saw her, she was pissed at whatever she's hiding. Then I come in, this complete stranger, so she snaps, fearing I saw something. Then, she goes home that night and realizes her behavior was uncalled for and wishes to apologize. The next time we interact, she's nice to me because she's trying to reach out. She knows I meant her no harm. Because of that, the third time, she attempts to come even further out of her shell and engages in subtle flirting.

Then…

With a spin and a double tap, the rest comes to me.

Then she sees Kristoff; another stranger. Seeing him frightens her, so she closes up and flees. Whatever this secret is, it makes her feel vulnerable.

She had been trying to open up to me and was making considerable process, but then Kristoff comes into the equation and throws everything off.

I halt in my mock match, bending over and panting.

It makes complete sense, really. I'm proud of myself for putting together such a complex hypothetical situation.

"You were distracted."

The sudden intrusion has me startled, and I spin around, fists raised.

She's standing there, eyes wide again as she steps backwards.

I briefly notice she's wearing that brace again before she's talking to me.

"Sorry," she says, hands raised in apology. "Didn't mean to scare you."

I debate shrugging her off again, but take Kristoff's advice and give her another chance to open up.

After all, this is the first time she's spoken to me of her own accord. She may have even sought me out.

"Well, now we're even," I reply somewhat curtly, referring to the first night when I startled her.

She grins a little and says, "I suppose we are."

We stand there, and I'm just waiting for a tumbleweed to blow between us and old western music to kick in. I mean, with the way we're staring each other down, it would be perfectly suitable.

She looks away first, and I smirk internally, proud I held my ground.

"Um," she mumbles. "Were you practicing for anything particular, or just because you like it?"

"Well, I do plan on entering the tournament coming up in the fall," I tell her. "But I also work out to clear my head as well. I guess that's what I mostly doing. Have a lot on my mind and all."

I don't fail to notice that look I can only describe as longing pass over her features as I mention the tournament, but it's gone once I bring up clearing my head.

"Well, as I remember you telling me, exercise is a great way to relieve stress."

I grant her a smile as she uses my words as her own. So, she's actually hung on to our conversations; that's good.

She smiles back—shyly again—and I only grin further.

Her eyes dart to the ground before me for a second before they're focused back on mine.

She's blushing.

I gulp.

"This may come off too forward, but…" she bites her lip and I have to contain my squeal at its utter adorability, "can I buy you dinner? Or…breakfast? Or whatever you want to call it?"

I become aware of the fact that it's most likely nearing one in the morning and I'm basically being asked out. I also don't fail to recognize the fact that I've been sweating and can't look at all like something someone would want to been seen in public with.

But with the way Elsa's blushing and looking everywhere but me, I can't help but think maybe this is real.

Or it could be some cruel dream.

"Why?" is all I can get myself to utter.

"Because I realize I've been somewhat of a bitch to you lately, when you've been nothing but kind to me," Elsa replies. "Plus…" she looks away again, "you're the first person I've spoken to in a long time."

"Really?" I ask next.

She nods, but doesn't say anything.

I blink. Holy shit; she's opening up to me. Like, _actually_ opening up to me; she wants to talk to me; she recognizes all the effort I've put in trying to talk to her. And now she's finally reciprocating.

I beam.

"Well, I _am_ starving," I tell her cheekily.

She meets my gaze again and our smiles mirror each other.

"Great," she whispers.

* * *

**Guys, I'm losing motivation to write… I literally had to fight myself to get this chapter done. Help.**

**I actually love writing, and I love this story so far, and I have **_**big**_** things planned for it, but my motivation is just sooooooo lacking. Someone come find me and kick my ass in gear.**

**Please?**


	6. Chapter 5: Dig Deeper

**Thanks so much for all the kind messages regarding my lack of motivation, guys. Warms my heart to know this story has so many fans.**

**I have made a decision on what I'm to do. Hopefully I don't lose any of you for this. **

**This will be the last update of Sucker Punch for a while. I like this story a lot better than A Never Ending Note, and want to able to devote the attention this story deserves because of that. However, I don't feel I can do that **_**and**_** work on ANEN as well. So, I have resolved to finish ANEN first, devote all my attention to finishing that up and then come back here to give you all the story you deserve.**

**This means Sucker Punch will be on a temporary hiatus, but please do not fret. I will be back as soon as possible. I didn't plan for ANEN to be that long, and I can wrap it up fairly quickly while still giving it the attention it so rightly deserves as well. I will not sell either of these stories short, but that does mean one will go untouched for a while.**

**School also starts Thursday for me, so working on two stories **_**plus**_** schoolwork is going to suck. This is yet another reason for this method of madness. **

**Anyway, I hope none of you are too upset, as I love the constant support this story has been receiving. I'm hoping maybe just a month and a half is all I'll need to finish up ANEN and return here, but with school, you never know.**

**So, there you have it. Please enjoy this last chapter for a while. Hopefully I've left you with enough of a cliffhanger to keep you curious while I'm away.**

**Love you all!**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Dig Deeper**

Elsa is nice enough to wait for me to take the world's fastest shower and throw my hair up in the world's messiest bun before we head out. When I emerge from the showers, she's sitting on a bench in the locker rooms, staring down at her phone and rubbing her right arm, fingers dancing up and down that brace of hers.

"Hey," I greet as I approach, retrieving my bag and stuffing clothes into it.

She looks up and smiles. "Ready?"

I grin. "I'm always ready to eat!"

She chuckles, but quickly hides it bashfully behind a hand. My grin only widens at the action.

We end up at an IHOP, which is actually only a few buildings down from mine. Because of the late—or does one-thirty in the morning count as early?—hour, we opt to take the subway instead of walking through the park. I don't mind it in the least, seeing as how I do it all the time, but I can't help but be acutely aware of how it seems to put Elsa on high alert. It's only when we descend the stairs and immerse ourselves in a surprisingly large crowd for the time, that I notice Elsa had been wearing an overly large hoodie this entire time. Pulling the hood up, she wraps her arms around herself before hunching over slightly; almost like she's trying to bury herself in the clothing.

"You okay?" I ask, debating whether to reach out to her physically or not.

She spares me a glance and I immediately pick up on the anxiety swimming in her troubled—yet extremely beautiful—irises.

"Yeah," she mumbles in reply. "Just…don't like crowds, is all."

"We don't have to do this," I tell her, not wanting her to push any limits she may have.

This time when she glances my way, I'm awarded with a shy smile.

"It's fine, really," she says. "I want to do this."

Her eyes tell the real story.

_I _need_ to do this_.

"Okay," I whisper as we continue to weave our way to a train.

We're safely on board before we know it, yet Elsa still doesn't put her hood down. I begin to think it's maybe because she doesn't want anyone to know who she is.

I almost say something to that effect, but realize last minute that she still thinks I don't know who she really is. I'm beginning to think that I need to tell her. Perhaps it will make her more at ease.

As I watch her continuously wring her hands together though, I recognize she's still on edge and decide to wait until we're at our destination.

We make it to the restaurant with no more hassles—other than pushing through _another _crowd upon getting off the train. Seriously, I thought that whole "city that never sleeps" thing was made up—and I actually feel relieved for Elsa's sake.

Once we're seated a considerable distance away from any other patrons, she lowers her hood.

I can't take it anymore.

"Don't you think you make it more obvious wearing that hood like you do?"

She looks up from her menu and to me, uncertainty and a spark of fear in her eyes. I smile my gentlest smile in hopes to calm her.

"W-What?"

"You don't want people to know who you are, yet it seems to me like you're drawing more attention to yourself with that hoodie," I explain.

She blinks at me, mouth agape in the cutest fashion.

"You know who I am?" she asks in a whisper, as if her identity is the world's biggest secret.

But, for her, maybe she _wants_ it that way.

I blush guiltily. "Yeah," I mumble. "I freaked out when I first saw you and thought maybe pretending to act like I didn't know who you are was for the best." Seeing her still staring at me, I feel a nervous ramble coming on. "I… I didn't want to scare you off any more than I already had," I attempt to explain. "I mean, you kinda just dropped off the face of the Earth after the last Olympics and I figured you had a reason and…I don't know—like I said, I freaked. I mean, I…idolize you, you know? I mean, making the Olympics at eighteen? Winning the silver on your first try? Then the fucking _gold_?! I just…"

I slowly trail off as I see her avert her eyes to the table and take her lower lip between her teeth. I realize I'm probably either embarrassing her or offending her, and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if I'm doing both, because, let's face it, I'm me.

"Sorry," I mutter. "Didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything."

She says "it's fine," so quietly that I can't help think it's anything _but_ fine.

I want to change the topic, I really do, but now that we're sitting here in a position to actually talk, it's all my mouth can think to blurt.

"Is that why you always come to the gym at night?" I ask. "Because you don't want people to see you?"

She shrugs, but the quick look she gives me says all I need to know.

My brain is screaming at me to start talking about anything but this, as Elsa is clearly growing even more uncomfortable and she's most likely about to up and leave me. However, my brain and my mouth have never gotten along well, and so my mouth continues to use its mind of its own.

"Why don't you want people to know who you are?" My mouth fires next at her. "I mean, I'm sure it can get annoying to be so famous, but-."

"Can we please talk about something else?" she snaps, effectively shutting me up.

I blush again and smile sheepishly as I apologize.

Elsa surprises me when she smiles in return.

"It's okay," she says. "I'm sure you have questions; I just…can't bring myself to answer them at this time."

I simply nod in turn, the words "at this time" instilling hope in me that perhaps one day I will learn the truth.

If I had only known then what an impact that "truth" would make in both our lives.

XxXxX

The rest of our "date"—because, let's face it, with how much both of us were blushing and all the shy glances that were stolen, that's, in essence, exactly what it was—goes by without a hitch. I manage to steer clear of talking about Elsa's fame and bringing up any questions, and instead our topics of discussion range from everything to our favorite color, to embarrassing high school stories, to deep philosophical discussions about the possibility of an afterlife.

We split a stack of pancakes a mile high and both discover our love for chocolate when we both reach for the chocolate syrup at the same time, our hands briefly connecting.

It was such a cliché moment, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Elsa also literally has to bribe the waitress into not allowing me to pay for anything, as she stands firm in her belief that this outing is her treat to make up for her rude treatment of me. Half of me detests greatly to this as I am my own individual and don't need anyone to take care of me, no matter how kind the offer, while the other half is happy to have Elsa treat me to anything else in the near future. If it gets her to smile as much as she has been tonight, anything would be worth it.

When she learns my apartment is only a few blocks down from the IHOP, she offers to walk me home, and my heart nearly explodes at the selfless gesture.

"It's nearing three in the morning," she tells me. "I've watched enough CSI: NY to have me fearful to let you walk home alone."

I chuckle as I hold the door open for her and we step out onto the sidewalk.

"Well, _I've_ watched enough CSI to know exactly what to do should I ever become a victim," I reassure her; even though I would most likely just end up screaming should anything like that actually happen.

It gets her to smile again though, and so it's effectively another victory for me.

The streets are nearly deserted now and so Elsa leaves her hood down. I look to her out of the corner of my eye as we walk and simply admire this ethereal beauty beside me.

I wish she wasn't so fearful of whatever it is she's hiding. Sure, fame might make you not want to not be noticed by everyone, but going the extra mile to _only_ workout when the gym is sure to be empty? To go to such lengths to hide yourself in crowds? To make sure you're sitting as far away from other restaurant patrons as you can?

Yes, Elsa Arendelle was definitely hiding something; and this something was much larger than just distaste of the paparazzi.

But, I would be patient, I kept telling myself. I had to.

We were at the entrance to my apartment building before I knew it.

"Would you like to come up?" I ask, brushing an imaginary strand of hair behind my ear like I always do when I'm nervous. "I can make some coffee."

She smiles kindly, yet shakes her head in the negative.

"I should really get going," she says. "But, um…" she looks quickly to me before focusing on the door behind me. "There was actually another reason I wanted to do this."

"What is it?" I ask.

I can't help but smile goofily as she blushes once more, amazed I actually have this kind of effect on someone when usually _I'm_ the one who can't control the color in their cheeks.

"Again, I hope this isn't too forward, but…I'd like to offer to…to train you. For the tournament."

I stand there, her offer having shocked me to silence. I blink, and only realize I haven't said anything when she begins to turn away, a look of heartbreak present on her gorgeous face.

"W-Wait!" I cry. "Yes! Yes, Elsa, I'd love it if you were to train me." I beam. "I'm flattered."

She copies my grin, her blush only growing.

A question then comes to me and I cock my head. "But why?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Honestly, I don't really know," she tells me, confusing me even more. "You just…remind me of myself, I guess, and I want to help. Plus, like I said, you're the first person I've held a conversation with in a long time and I really enjoyed tonight, so… Yeah."

I'm sure my face is as red as hers by the time she awkwardly finishes her explanation. I laugh in good humor.

"Well, that makes enough sense to me!" I chirp. "Count me in!"

She smiles, flashing perfect white teeth framed by even more perfect lips. I have to physically restrain myself from crashing my lips to hers in that moment.

"Great," she exclaims, looking happier than I've ever seen her. "See you tomorrow night at the gym?"

I can only nod, still too busy trying to contain my hormones.

"It's a date," I utter.

She bites her lip in typical Elsa fashion, before running a hand through her hair. She doesn't immediately take off though, which is a significant step up from last time.

"Great," she repeats.

We stand there awkwardly for a few moments with what I'm sure are similar thoughts. Do we just separate? Do I just offer an informal goodbye and then leave her on the stoop? Is she going to give me a hug? Should I give _her_ a hug?

Are we supposed to kiss?

Neither of us meet each other's gaze until I clear my throat.

"Well…" I start uncomfortably. "See you tomorrow night then?"

My heart flips at the look of disappointment that flashes across her face.

Shit, did I just reject her?

"Yeah," she whispers.

Then, she's down the stairs and turning the corner before I can shout goodbye. Pulling out my keys, I groan loudly.

What the hell have I just gotten myself into?


End file.
